Darkness of Dres
by Ariane-072
Summary: Oneshot. Dravyn Dres has fallen from grace. Formerly a nobleman of House Dres in Morrowind, now he's a member of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim, and this time, his mark is inside Dragonsreach. 892 words of assassin-y goodness.


This is not an easy job, thought Dravyn.

For starters, the mark was somewhere inside Dragonsreach, where a dark elf would stand out like a sore thumb. Sure, he wasn't the only one - there was Irileth, the Jarl's Housecarl - but that only made his task more difficult. That traitor bitch had eyes everywhere. And she knew how to spot a Dunmer with murder on his mind.

Besides, there was the House Dres ring he wore to consider. It was enchanted twofold, with a strength spell that allowed him to carry more equipment, and with a spell that helped him slip lethal poison-infused items into his targets' pockets. He wasn't about to take it off and hide it. Equally, Irileth's sharp eyes would hone in on it very quickly.

The Morag Tong did not operate in Skyrim. That was his only hope to be able to pull off this assassination without being seen and arrested. He was the only Dunmer member of the Dark Brotherhood who operated out of Skyrim. And he hadn't been caught yet.

Dravyn simply marched straight through the large double door. Better to look like he belonged here than to try sneaking about. He was dressed in sufficient finery that nobody should bat an eyelid. After all, he was Dravyn Dres. He was well known as a merchant of rare goods from Morrowind and certainly wealthy enough to saunter into a Jarl's palace as if he owned the place.

Nobody needed to know about his fall from grace back home.

He offered a calm smile to a guard, and a charming one to one of the palace servants. House Dres was not above keeping slaves, and the slaves were treated quite badly, but Dravyn had been away from the House for long enough that well-fed servants who were actually paid seemed nothing unusual.

The Jarl had taken his bed for the night. Excellent. No need for Dravyn to talk to the man before going to find the mark. He just had to get that bitch Irileth off his back.

"Dravyn Dres, I take it?"

"Yes, of course," he said, fighting back his distaste and replacing it with sickening charm. "Lovely to make your acquaintance, Irileth."

"Cut the crap." Irileth's chin jerked upwards, indicating an insulting belief that she was better than him. Him! A noble of House Dres! Well, former noble, but she didn't know that. "I know who you are and I know what you're here for."

"Then you know I won't harm the Jarl." Dravyn spoke softly, to avoid the guards hearing him. He wasn't about to say anything incriminating, and he doubted Irileth would either. She wasn't the client, but the mere fact she knew what he was here for could be taken to imply that she was. Even so, it was smarter not to let the guards overhear a word of this conversation.

The poison was already prepared. One drop on the skin was all it would take to kill the mark. All he had to do now was wait. And get Irileth to stop bothering him.

"I do. As much as the Jarl dislikes the woman, I cannot allow it." Irileth laid one hand on her sword, scowling.

"I am not asking you to allow it," Dravyn countered. "I am simply asking you to -" he cast an invisibility spell "- forget you saw me."

With a stupid grin at Irileth's frustration, he jogged away, letting the keep lapse back into silence as he went up the stairs. It was tempting to poison the Jarl as well, for Irileth's interruption, but he had one mark. One target, one dose of poison, one escape plan, and one client. It was wasteful to murder somebody without a contract to do so, when it was possible there might be one later on. An abrasive man like Jarl Balgruuf had his enemies.

Dragonsreach was a large palace, but not so large as to be a problem. There were only so many rooms fitting to house nobles. One was taken by the Jarl, and presumably his wife. They had to house the children somewhere, as well. Dravyn suspected the boys did not share a bedroom. At the very least, they did not all share. The court wizard had a room somewhere, too, though it was likely not in the upstairs section of the palace. The wizard was a commoner, not a noble.

The client had said something about the south wing. That was the best place to start.

Finding the mark took only a few seconds. Dravyn slipped into the room, shut the door behind him, and took the tiny vial of poison out of the concealed pocket in his sleeve. He turned to face the target and carefully pulled the stopper out of the vial.

One drop of poison oozed out as he tipped it. The drop fell at half speed and splashed onto the sleeping noblewoman's face. She mumbled a complaint, and Dravyn froze. For one heartstopping moment, he thought she was going to wake up and scream for help. Finally, the woman's breathing started to slow. Just as he was fading back into visibility, he watched his mark take her last breath.

Job done. Time for this Dunmer assassin to make himself scarce. He cast the spell again and slipped out of the palace.


End file.
